I said something about the stomach flu we had last weekend. I have to add another part to that story.
After the second or third bout of child retching (I won't dwell on that part, I promise!), I remembered the essential oils Trent had recently picked up at a trade show. His mom and a bunch of other people I know just swear by them, so I thought I'd give them a try.
Little Angel was so miserable, and her "tummy was so owie." I looked at the tiny vials of essential oils, sqinting to read the microscopic print in the dim light. I found two that were labeled for "disgestion" and "nausea." I took off the tops, carefully measured about three drops into my hand, and recapped the bottles. I had heard that the oils are potent, so I was careful to just take a drop or two of each.
Angel lay on the floor, and I started rubbing the oils into her belly. At first, she liked it and calmed down. She said the rubbing felt nice.
But soon she started to cry, and then scream. The skin on her abdomen darkened to pink... and bright red.
Water doesn't wash off oil, just so you know. Neither do baby wipes. The poor girl had to have a full-blown bath in the middle of the night to soap the oil off her poor skin. It took a while, but we got the poor sick girl cleaned up, dried off, warmed up, and tucked in.
I learned my lesson. Don't mess with stuff you know nothing about.
Now I know that you have to add the oils to another oil to dilute them before you rub it on your skin. And some oils are stronger and more irritating than others.
I thought about my own inadequacies as a mother as I laid in bed that night. I sure make a lot of mistakes. They haven't yet proven to be fatal, but I'm sure good at making people uncomfortable sometimes. I'm sorry, little Angel. My stinging hands were nothing compared to the soft skin of your tummy.
But didn't the cinnamon smell nice?